


Live In My House I'll Be Your Shelter

by MashiarasDream



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Christmas, Family Reunion, Finding Love, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, barowner!Dean, dad!Cas, description of past sexual abuse is blunt but not graphic, happy end, legal guardian!Dean, mentions of past sexual and physical abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2019-12-20
Packaged: 2021-02-26 19:47:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21874138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MashiarasDream/pseuds/MashiarasDream
Summary: Dean’s life is pretty fucking good right now. It’s Christmas Eve, his almost-daughter is newly in love, and he gets to harmlessly flirt with his favorite customer. Only then, said patron of his bar turns out to be more than Dean bargained for, and suddenly things go a lot deeper. Now Dean has to ask himself whether he’s ready to explore the new possibilities.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester, Ellen Harvelle/Bobby Singer, Kaia Nieves/Claire Novak
Comments: 46
Kudos: 219





	1. Christmas Eve

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to [tinnydandelion](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinnydandelion/pseuds/tinnydandelion) for the title art and [infinitywritten](https://archiveofourown.org/users/infinitywritten/pseuds/infinitywritten) for betaing! Love you! 
> 
> Please note that there is one point in the story where Dean talks very bluntly about a past spouse sexually and physically assaulting him. If that might trigger you, please proceed with care. (Find me on twitter/tumblr/in the comments if you want more info before reading.)

“Claire! Put that down!” Dean bellows. “Now!”

“But Dean!” Claire whines. 

“No,” he repeats. “Put it down right now.”

She sulks but she puts down the wine bottles that she was obviously going to steal. “You’re not my dad,” she grumbles. 

“Nope,” he agrees. “But I am the one that the sheriff is going to deliver you to, and I have enough to do without bailing you out.”

She blows him a raspberry but then decides that being obnoxious is probably not going to get her anywhere and changes tack. She makes her eyes big and pleading. “But it’s Christmas Eve! Love is all around you and stuff! You gotta be nice!”

“You’re killing me, girl.” Dean rubs a hand over his face, though mainly to keep Claire from noticing his smile. He’s supposed to be upset at her antics after all. But she’s right, it _is_ Christmas Eve and Dean has a fond feeling of dejavu whenever he looks at her. Dean's pretty sure he was the same combination of brazen and insecure at that age. Not that his old man had been fond of _his_ antics. He grimaces at the thought and focuses back on Claire and the present. Cause he's not his old man and he can make this better for her than life had been for him. “I’ll make you a deal. You stay sober and make it my Christmas miracle that I won’t get a call from Jody to get you either from the station or from the hospital and you can take the car.”

“The Impala?” Claire’s eyes widen. 

“Is there any other car that’s even worth mentioning?” Dean scoffs. He picks the keys up from their bowl and throws them to Claire. “But you be careful with her, okay? She's a lady.”

Claire catches the keys easily and grins at him, suddenly in a much better mood. “The car or Kaia?” she jokes.

“ _Both_ ,” Dean says with emphasis, though he can’t keep his smile from softening his eyes. “Okay. Have fun on your date. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do. Or that I would do for that matter.”

Claire rolls her eyes at him. “You’re such a dad with your dorky dad jokes, I swear.”

“Heh,” he grins and returns the little wave she gives him before she leaves through the backdoor. He’s never pegged himself for the dad type, nevermind that he basically raised Sam, but he thinks that overall he’s doing a pretty good job with Claire. 

He waits until he hears the Impala’s engine revv before returning to work. “I’m sorry, Baby,” he apologizes vaguely in the Impala’s direction but he’s also still smiling. Tomorrow is Christmas, he’s gonna see his whole family and his not-quite-daughter is adorably in love. The world is good.

It gets better still when he goes back out to the front and sees a familiar figure sitting at the bar, trenchcoat and suit jacket folded neatly beside him.

“Heya, stranger,” he greets him with a wide smile. 

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel smiles back. 

“Whatcha doing here, man?” Dean asks, much gruffer than he feels, and pours a beer for Castiel without asking. 

“It’s Friday,” Castiel points out and accepts the beer with another smile.

“It’s Christmas Eve,” Dean argues. 

Castiel shrugs. “It’s a Friday,” he repeats. “I always come in on Fridays.”

For the past eight weeks anyway, every Friday and Saturday, but who is counting? Well, Dean is apparently. But then, having Castiel sit at the bar always brightens his night. And it’s not just because it’s rare that good-looking strangers stumble into his bar and stay. Dean enjoys a good view as much as anyone, but he’s come to appreciate Castiel’s dry humor and friendly banter as well. 

“Look around you, man,” Dean gestures at the deserted bar. “It’s not a normal Friday night.”

“Are you trying to convince me to leave?” Castiel cocks his head and raises his eyebrows. 

“No, man, I’m not chasing away customers, that’s just bad for business,” Dean grins and comes to a decision. He pours a light beer for himself before walking around the bar and hopping up on the stool next to Castiel. “In fact, I’m gonna enjoy that my favorite customer is here and that I have a little more time to talk to him than normal. If you want, that is. And only until the rush starts.”

“The rush?” Cas asks and as usual completely ignores Dean’s attempt at flirting. 

Dean shrugs. “‘S gonna be around ten thirty, eleven. When the kids and the old folks are in bed after all the pre-Christmas cheer. That’s when all the stressed-out middle-agers come here to get some liquid courage for tomorrow.”

“Huh.” Castiel looks like he’s never thought about it before, that people might use their favorite bar to get a little time-out from the family cheer. 

“Not the way your family celebrates Christmas I gather? If they are celebrating?” He’s blatantly fishing for information but he’s learned early on that subtlety is an art that’s lost on Castiel. See also: all his failed attempts at flirting.

“I gather they’re at mass right now,” Cas answers. Dean must have made a face because Cas starts smiling one of those fond little smiles that crinkle his eyes and that absolutely don’t give Dean heart palpitations. “How do you celebrate?”

“Ah,” Dean shrugs. “Nothing fancy. My brother’s gonna come over in the morning and we’re gonna have a little Christmas breakfast. Just him, Claire and me. And then we’re gonna drive out to Uncle Bobby’s for dinner and exchange gifts and enjoy Ellen’s eggnog like we do every year. That’s basically it. We drive back the day after and I’m opening the bar as normal on Sunday.”

“You’re not here tomorrow?” Castiel sounds disappointed. “I wasn't aware of that.”

“Uhh, yeah,” Dean nods. “I’m sorry. I know it’s a Saturday and all, and you come in Saturdays, but,” he shrugs. “It’s Christmas, man. You ain’t got anyone to celebrate with?” He cringes at the blunt way he’s put that, but again, Cas and subtlety. 

“It’s alright,” Cas smiles though it’s all too clear that this smile is hollow. “I’m glad that you’ll get to spend the day with family. You and Claire both. It’ll be good for you.”

Dean shudders when he thinks about the fact that Claire is probably driving his car right this second, and quickly banishes the thought in favor of banter. “You know something that I don’t know? Is Claire in trouble again? What did she do now?” 

“What? No? Why would I - I don’t even -”

Dean raises his eyebrows as Cas stammers his way through several incomplete sentences. Not usually a thing that happens. Cas might be terse when he’s stressed out from whatever his boss put him through that week, but he’s not one to stumble over his words. 

Cas seems to notice Dean's bewildered look, because he abruptly shuts up and takes a deep breath. “I’ve only ever seen her from a distance, Dean,” Cas says softly. “I wouldn’t know whether she’s in trouble.”

Well, that was a little weird. But Cas' social behavior is a little weird sometimes, so Dean huffs exaggeratedly and lets it go, determined to keep the mood light. “You’re the only one. Seems like everyone else always tells me whatever it is that she got up to this week.”

“Is she really that bad?” Cas asks.

Dean takes a sip of his beer. No banter then. Alright. He can work with somber, too. “Nah. She’s got a temper and she definitely knows more cuss words than is good for her, but she’s not a bad kid.” He chuckles a little. “In fact, she reminds me a lot of me.”

“Does she?” Cas asks, though he doesn't crack a smile. “But she’s not yours, is she?”

And see who is fishing for information now. Dean grins because he likes it that Cas is interested in his life. “In a biological father kinda way? No. I have no idea who her dad is. She doesn’t talk about it other than that he left when she was a kid. She’s supposed to be living with her grandma, but that, uhh, didn’t work out.”

“Why not?”

The question is a little more aggressive than is called for, so Dean raises his eyebrows again. “Dude, you can ask about my life but I’m not sure I should be telling you her stories.”

“I apologize. I just find it curious that a teenage girl came to live with a bar owner and single man.”

The wording takes Dean aback enough that he puts down his glass and moves a few inches out of Cas’ personal space. “I hope you ain’t trying to insinuate any bullshit. Cause I’d take that personally and I liked you so far." 

Cas shrinks back from him a little and holds his hands up in a disarming gesture. 

So all Dean does is shake his head and volunteer some information after all. "For the record, both her grandma and social services are well aware that she’s living with me. I made sure of that." Dean shakes his head. "There’s nothing nefarious going on, man.”

"I - apologies. Again. I was - curious how she came to live with you." 

It actually sounds apologetic, so Dean gives in. "Ah, her living situation before was not feasible anymore. Her grandma and her had, uhhh, spiritual differences."

"Huh?" Cas frowns, apparently not understanding. 

Dean sighs. "She's gay, Cas. And her grandma told her to either go to church with her and pray the gay away or get out. She chose ‘get out’."

"Oh."

"Yeah, oh." Dean echos. 

For a moment they both sit in silence nursing their beers. 

"She's on a date tonight," Dean divulges. "God, I hope she doesn't total my car."

"A date?"

"Yep."

“With a girl.”

“Yep.”

"Have you met her?" 

Dean chuckles because this whole conversation is taking a lot of unexpected turns. "What’s with the fifth degree, Cas?”

“Just wondering,” Cas shrugs, trying to sound casual but not really managing.

“Nothing to worry about. Kaia’s a good girl. You might call her a good influence on Claire. Don’t do it while Claire’s around, though,” Dean snorts. “Though it’s true. I’ve actually allowed her to invite Kaia to dinner tomorrow."

"Doesn't the girl have a family Christmas of her own to attend?" Cas frowns.

"Kaia’s folks live out at Pine Ridge Reservation, don't think her family's too invested in Christmas. Also, dude, chill. You're way intense about all of this."

It shuts Cas up. Dean isn't sure whether it's in a good or a bad way. 

"You've not been around much of what they call _diversity_ these days, have you?" Dean asks carefully. He doesn't think Cas is actively bigoted or anything, just - clueless, judging by his reactions. 

Cas grimaces. "I’m sorry. I come from a religious white middle-class family. Everyone was either in the military or worked for the church."

“So which one of the two is your poison?” 

“I worked for both organizations at some point in time if that’s what you’re asking. But not anymore.”

“How come?” Dean asks.

Cas presses his lips together until they form a tight white line.

“Sorry,” Dean immediately apologizes. “Didn’t want to pry. ‘S just a stereotype that people tell their bartender everything anyway,” he jokes. 

It’s an attempt to lighten the mood but Cas’ expression stays heavy. “I’m just not - very good at this.”

“This?” Dean asks with a raised eyebrow. 

“This.” Cas gestures between the two of them. “Talking to people.” 

“Seems to me you’re doing fine.”

“But am I?” Cas asks.

“Far as I can tell,” Dean shrugs. “You’re a little intense and a little clueless sometimes, but you’re friendly and not a judgemental asshat. In my book, that’s a win.”

“And yet in all of this time, I never told you why I’m here,” Cas replies and averts his eyes, his whole posture slumping.

It raises Dean’s hackles, his face hardening into suspicion. He’s dealt with too much similar crap before. Though he really hadn’t pegged Cas as the type. ”Kinda assumed it was the good beer and my winning personality as a bartender that kept you here,” Dean says as calmly as he can manage. “But if it’s not, I can assure you that whatever the fuck you think you have on me, you don’t. There’s no money to be made from me - or from my brother. No other favors, either.” He spits the last sentence.

“What?” Cas suddenly looks wide-eyed.

“Is that not it?” Dean bites, his calmth crumbling after all. “You unearthed some less public tidbit from my past and now you think you can use it against me? I’ve got news for you, man, all of this shit has been chewed through and spit out before. I’ve got absolutely nothing to hide.”

“Dean, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” It almost sounds like the truth.

“The trial?” Dean asks. “Ring a bell?”

All Cas does is shake his head, wide-eyed look of shock at Dean's reaction giving him the look of a deer in headlights. 

“Oh,” Dean says, now too confused himself to hold onto his anger. “Okay, if not that, what then?” he asks, voice calming down into uncertainty.

Cas still looks weirded out by Dean’s outburst, his face a few shades paler than Dean’s ever seen it since the first time Cas had come in. He’d been nervous and fidgety that day. It’s almost the same look of fear on his face now. It definitely speaks against any of Dean’s assumptions but that does nothing to clear up the situation. 

“Alright," Dean clears his throat. "We'll conclude that you’re not trying to blackmail me into either giving you money or sex. So it can’t be that bad. I think. And we’ve built a bit of a rapport with each other over the past few months, don’t you think?”

“You assumed I was trying to extort you just a second ago,” Cas points out.

“And I’d apologize, but I’ve seen a lot of bullshit in my life. I’ve learned a long time ago that appearances can lie. So while I feel like I can smell creeps ten miles against the wind, I won’t put anything past anyone anymore.” He shrugs, going for casual though he doesn't feel it, the mention of Michael always leaving his stomach churning. 

“Dean, I’m not…,” Cas pinches the bridge of his nose. He lets out a long intentional breath before looking up and looking Dean straight in the eye. “I’m Claire’s father.”

For a moment, there’s nothing but the static of Dean’s blood rushing in his ears. It’s louder than even the background music in the bar. “Come again?” Dean asks over the noise of his own blood. 

“My name is Castiel Novak. I'm Claire’s father,” Cas repeats, calm and certain this time. "The grandmother she ran away from is my late wife's mother."

"You’re Claire’s - ," Dean's mind is still reeling. "You’re sure?”

“Yes, Dean, I’m sure,” Cas says gravely. 

And that’s - Dean looks at Cas, the dark-haired stranger who came in out of the blue two months ago and has come back every weekend since, never really reacting to Dean’s flirting but always laughing at his dumb jokes, and he thinks of his temperamental blonde almost-daughter and it just doesn’t make sense to him. “Do you have proof?" he asks.

Cas nods. "I have a copy of her birth certificate and some pictures of the two of us from her childhood. But I assume that she would recognize me. If she saw me close up. She was already almost 10 when I - when I had to leave."

Dean’s mouth falls open when he figures out that, "You've been here for almost two months and you’ve not once talked to her." 

Cas’ face scrunches up guiltily. "No. I haven’t. At first I - I wanted to make sure. That it was her. I didn't, umm, I didn't go through the official channels to find her. I wasn't ready to -, umm," he breaks off and starts anew. "And then I wanted to see - who she is. Where she lives. How she lives. With whom she lives. What kind of person, umm, you are."

"Yeah, okay. I get that last part. But the rest? You can't get that from staring at her through the kitchen door of a bar. Which, kinda uncool and stalkery, man." Dean shakes his head.

"I know," Cas quickly assures. "Believe me, I know.” He grimaces. “It's just that I'm also - kind of a coward." 

Dean huffs with incredulous laughter. "So you're telling me you came all the way from wherever it is you came from just to - drink beer and _not_ talk to her?"

Cas flinches at the accusatory tone. "Illinois,” he says quietly. “That's where I come from."

"You're shitting me. You're driving down here every weekend just to -" Dean gestures vaguely around them. 

Cas nods silently. 

“Shit.” Dean rubs his neck. “Shit, man. This is a lot.” 

“I know,” Cas nods. “That’s also why,” he clears his throat. “I guess it seemed a good day today. To tell you. Because it’s Christmas and we’re alone and…” He tapers off. 

If you’d asked Dean an hour ago, he’d have had a lot of ideas of how he’d like a Christmas evening with Cas to go if a djinn granted him a few free wishes. It’s definitely not this.“So what do you - what do you want to do now?” he asks a little helplessly. 

“I-,” Cas looks away. “I don’t know.”

“Are you here to,” Dean swallows hard, “take her with you?”

“Dean, I…” Cas shakes his head. “I don’t know.”

“I’m not just gonna give her to you,” Dean bursts out. He holds up his hand when Cas wants to interrupt him. “No, man. It took her a year to get settled. I don’t care that you’re a nice dude and that I like you, you’re not going to rip her out of here. I’m gonna fight you on that.”

“Dean, I - you like me?” Cas asks surprised.

Dean groans and lets himself drop back down on his chair. That was not the part of his little speech that Dean had wanted Cas to focus on. 

“But you...,” Cas blinks confused. 

“I told you that’s what a good bartender does, I know,” Dean grumbles. “You ever see me doing this,” he points between the two of them, “with anyone else?”

“No?” Cas answers hesitantly. “But I just thought - because I’m new?”

Dean chuckles. “Well, I give you that one. In the beginning, it kinda was that. It’s rare that an unattached drifter comes in here and looks like you.” He gestures up and down Cas’ really nice body.

“I’m not -,” Cas breaks off and blinks again, obviously thinking about how to take what he’s just heard. 

“You didn’t even notice, did you?” Dean shakes his head. “Dammit, I flirted with a handsome dude for two months and he didn’t even notice.”

“You flirted,” Cas repeats, voice disbelieving. 

“Yes, Cas, I flirted,” Dean rolls his eyes, though he can’t help that it’s fond. Clueless. Cas is so clueless. But then Dean turns serious again. “So, let’s have a chat about that. Does it offend you when a dude flirts with you? Cause if it does, we’re going to have a problem here. Not cause of me,” he quickly assures, “I can handle the rejection. But I think I accidentally told you that your daughter is gay, so you can see where I’m going with this.”

“I have no problem with Claire being a lesbian, or you being gay,” Cas assures. “I swear.”

“I’m not,” Dean shakes his head. “Gay. I’m bisexual.”

“Oh.” The confused blink is back.

“Means I’m playing for both teams, in case you’re not up to speed on terminology. What with you not being around diversity much and all.”

“I know the term,” Cas blushes. “I just didn’t expect -”

“What?”

Cas blushes harder. “You to be like me,” he whispers.

“Oh.” It’s Dean’s turn to blink.

Cas reaches for his beer with a shaky hand and draws a long gulp. 

“You okay there?” Dean asks worriedly.

“Yes. Yes, I am. I just - this is the first time I’ve said this out loud to anyone.”

“Uhh, congratulations on coming out, I guess?”

Cas gives him a shaky smile. “Thank you.”

Dean’s got the urge to clap a hand on Cas’ shoulder in physical support, but he refrains. Instead, he says, “You’ll get used to it. Saying it out loud, I mean. And the more you do it, the easier it gets.”

“I’m not sure my work and life circumstances in Illinois agree with that.”

“Yeah, okay, that’s a thing. Part of why I have this,” Dean gestures at his bar. “Being my own boss, I can be whoever the fuck I want. And do whoever the fuck I want. ‘S no one gonna tell me I gotta be different. And if someone’s not okay with _queers_ , well, I can throw them right out on their asses.” 

“Lucky.”

“Nah, luck’s got nothing to do with it. I worked hard for this. Both for the place and for, y’know. Being out and proud and not taking any shit. Took me a long time.”

“So people here know?”

“Hells yeah. Guess you can’t know it, seeing how you’re from out of town, but this place is known for being a queer-friendly space. In fact, it’s what made Claire stop here.”

“Really?”

“Yep. She came looking for a job. She’d heard the place was friendly and she was plain broke. Course she was also 14, had no place to sleep and hadn’t washed in around a week. It wasn’t that hard to needle the truth out of her. I made her a deal. She’d help out a little around the place and get her ass back into school, I’d give her a place to sleep and whatever food I’m scrunching up in the kitchen. She accepted.”

“Just like that? You offered a stranger a place to live?”

Dean shrugs, though the gesture is tense. Cas can’t know it but his question is veering close towards the territory that Dean’s not usually discussing with people he’s just getting to know. “Well, I guess you could say I was her, once upon a time. Only I also had my little brother to feed and…” He breaks off. “I’m not gonna tell you my whole sob story tonight, especially since you don’t even know the whole thing with Michael and the trial yet.” Dean rubs his hands over his arms, a small comforting gesture. It’s been years but he can feel the bile rise at the back of his throat. So instead of lingering, he presses on. “Suffice it to say that the strangers that took me in never did it out of the goodness of their hearts. So, I didn’t want to see that happening to her. Didn’t want to see her hurt. Anymore than she already was, anyway.”

“Had someone…” Cas blanches.

“Touched her?” Dean asks. He guesses that’s the question that doesn’t want to leave Cas’ lips. “Not that I know of. She had a few scrapes and bruises, but I think it was mostly from getting into fights. She still does that every so often. She’s gotten better at it, though, now it’s the other people bringing home most of the bruises.” 

He shouldn't say that quite as proudly, he thinks, especially since Claire is currently spouting a nicely sewn cut on her forehead from a fight against a guy with a knife that she didn’t win. The most recent time that Jody had brought her home. The guy's known to be a racist ass, so even though Claire was close-mouthed about the cause of the fight, the fact that Kaia had shown up at their house the minute Jody left is enough of an indication to Dean as to what happened. Claire always tells Kaia to run. Always, but especially when the police get involved. Cause Claire is white and blond and Kaia is not. 

“I taught her,” Dean admits to Cas. “Saw it pretty instantly that Claire’s not the type to back down from a fight. Coulda have told her a hundred times to run and let someone else deal with the assholes, she was never gonna do it anyway. So now she at least knows what she’s doing.”

“So she’s not going out looking for trouble?” Cas tries to reassure himself. 

“Dude, this is a small town in bumpkin nowhere. I mean the town’s not the worst by far or I would have moved already, but sometimes, just being out together ends up being asking for trouble.”

“Because she’s a lesbian.”

“And a blonde dating someone from the reservation,” Dean sighs. “People are fucked up sometimes.”

Cas nods. “I agree.”

“So you sure you’re cool with that? Her, I mean?”

“Yes, Dean,” Cas repeats, “I’m ‘cool’ with it.” He actually does air quotes. 

Dean breaks out laughing. “Yeah, okay, man, that was the least cool thing I’ve ever seen anyone do, but okay.”

Cas pouts, but his shoulders come back down from almost up over his ears. Dean’s taking all of this better than Cas expected, Dean assumes. 

“So, you wanna actually meet her?”

Immediately, the nerves come back, Cas’ whole body tensing. 

“I mean, we can do this for another month or two, I’m not complaining. I actually quite like your company. But, y’know, it’s Christmas tomorrow and you’ve got no one to celebrate it with, so… I can ask her. Whether it’s okay to invite you. If you give me your number, I’ll call you back with the answer.”

“You’d do that?” 

“Yeah,” Dean nods. “You’re her father. But, you know, I'm kinda still gonna have to insist on some ground rules.”

“Such as?”

“If she says No, you’re not showing up against her will. And you’re not dragging her out of the house to come with you. You get reacquainted, see whether you click. And if she likes you, then you meet again. And again. And then eventually you can ask her about moving back with you. Without pressuring her. And if she says No, we’re back to you’re not gonna do nothing without her consent.” 

“The way you describe her, it’d make no sense anyway. She’d tell me to fuck off and run,” Cas says. 

“Is that what you did?” Dean asks. 

“What?”

“When you left her and her mom. Did you run?”

“Dean.”

“Cause that would be another thing that’s not cool, you know? Coming back into her life just to disappear again. All she’s gonna show you is how tough she is. And it’s not a lie. Claire is _very_ tough. But she’s also lost a lot of people in her life already. Including both parents.”

Cas’ shoulders slump. “I thought she was safe with her mom,” he mumbles. “I couldn’t have known - I thought it would be better for her if I wasn’t there.”

“Why?” Dean asks. 

“Because I had doubts.”

“About what?”

“About everything.” Cas suddenly looks very small. “About church. About God. Even about the military and what it means to fight for our country. Nothing made sense to me anymore. I tried to talk to my wife and she sent me to our priest, but…” He shakes his head. “It didn’t help. All the answers they had was to believe that their way was the right way. And I couldn’t.”

“I get that,” Dean answers quietly. “Personally, I think that anyone peddling their way as the only true way is selling you bullshit anyway.”

“But I had grown up in this belief! My daughter was growing up in it. Cared for and loved by a whole congregation. Involved in all of their activities. Her best friend was the priest’s daughter. That’s what her mother had to offer her. The only thing I had to give her was a crisis and an uncertain future,” Cas desperately tries to explain.

“Your wife threw you out,” Dean understands. 

“Yes,” Cas nods bitterly. “She didn’t word it that way of course. She said she wanted me to _get help_ . To come back _whole_. She didn’t want me around her while I …” He presses his eyes closed as if to stop tears from dropping. “I never found that faith again. Her faith. So I never came back. It was an accident that I even found out she’d died. No one had informed me.”

“That’s pretty shitty of them.”

Cas shakes his head. “I should have expected it. They’re a close-knit community. Once you’re out, you’re out.” 

“And you weren’t even out of the closet yet,” Dean jokes, though he keeps his tone gentle. He can see that Cas is deeply affected by all of this, even though the events are years in the past. Well, the part about losing his community anyway. “So when did you hear about your wife?” he asks carefully. 

“Three months ago. At the same time that I heard about Claire having run from her grandmother’s. I tried contacting her, but the old lady wouldn’t talk to me. It took me a few tries to find someone who would give me any information at all.” 

Dean nods silently. “Yeah, I figure.”

“Dean, please believe me. I didn’t know. Claire was a happy child. A religious child. I thought what I was doing was for her best,” Cas pleads.

“It ain’t me you gotta convince of that, man.”

“I know,” Cas says guiltily. 

“Is that what you’ve been doing for the past few months? Convincing yourself?” Dean gives him a half-smile of understanding. 

Cas nods, then blushes again. He looks down at his hands when he says, “It was also - unexpectedly pleasant to get to know you.”

“Yeah?” Dean asks, going for cocky but possibly ending up somewhere around blushing as well. 

“Yes,” Cas confirms, still sounding all serious about it. 

“Cool.” 

Of course at that moment, a loud group of at least 15 people comes in. 

"Ah. Mass is done at the LGBT friendly church two towns over. That's their choir. I guess that's it for quiet time." Dean is actually disappointed by that, even though he's not gonna snub the Christmas profit. “Decide what you want to eat and I’ll be right back.”

He is, but of course the choir is only the beginning. The longer evening, the more people come in, the rush happening as predicted. The orders shift from food to alcohol, which Dean is glad about, because he gave Charlie the evening off and he’d definitely not manage to cook and wait on everyone at the same time. 

Still, he has the time to prepare Cas’ burger, and then convince Cas to let him snap a picture while he’s eating it. He says it’s as a picture for Cas’ contact info in his phone, but really he thinks it might be helpful in convincing Claire that it’s actually her dad that has shown up in Dean’s bar. 

Cas leaves around midnight. Dean tells him that tonight’s food and drinks are on the house but Cas sneaks a couple of bills under the plate anyway. Dean shakes his head and puts the money aside to give to Claire. It is Christmas after all. 

The rush calms down shortly after, so Dean starts in on the dishes and clean-up. It still takes until almost 2am before he manages to push the last few stragglers out of the door and into a taxi to bring them home safely. With a relieved sigh, he locks up and cleans the last table, before moving up the stairs to the apartment above the bar. 

He beelines to the kitchen to get himself a glass of whiskey. One, no more, he promises himself. He takes his phone out of his pocket and swipes to the recent photos. There are half a dozen pictures of Cas, with his mouth stuffed full of burger but obviously trying to smile for the camera, then coughing when something had gone down the wrong pipe, and finally laughing about the mishap. His laugh is quieter than Dean’s, more conscious of his surroundings, but Dean finds it infectious anyway.

“Of all the ways I’ve ever gotten a guy’s number, this is definitely one of the weirdest,” he chuckles to himself. Then he stops stone-cold. Because that was a little leap his heart did there at the thought of having gotten Cas’ number. And his hands had gotten a little sweaty. “I have a crush,” he realizes with a start and immediately takes another gulp of his whiskey. “I’m crushing on Claire’s dad. Holy fuck.”

“Did I hear my name?” Claire stands in the doorway. 

“Claire!” Dean jumps and drowns the last of his whiskey too fast. He shakes himself when it burns down his throat. “How’s Baby doing?”

“Your car is perfectly fine, old man.” Claire throws him the keys and he fumbles to catch them. “Now what was that about having a crush? And why was my name in it? You know that I don’t swing your way, right? And that I'm way too young for you.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Thanks for bringing the Impala back safe and sound.”

“You weren’t talking about your crush on your car, either, right? Cause dude, I’m not judging anyone for a fetish but I do _not_ want to know,” Claire teases.

“Shuddup,” Dean mumbles and by the way his face heats, he’s blushing. Which promptly gets rewarded with loud cackling from Claire. Dean quickly presses on, “So I’m taking it that your date went well?”

“None of your business,” Claire grumbles but by the way her face wants to morph into a happy smile it was a good date indeed. 

“Good for you,” Dean replies, aiming for gruff but missing by a mile. “You tired?”

“Not particularly. Still a little hyped.”

“Hot cocoa?” Dean asks and already turns to the fridge to get the milk. 

“Oh oh. What’s wrong?” Claire comes over to lean against the kitchen counter. “You never make cocoa unless something is wrong.”

Dean sighs. “Nothing is wrong. Not per se.”

“Spit it out, old man.”

Dean unlocks his phone, the screen still showing the picture of a smiling Castiel. He slides it over to Claire like it’s no big deal, but he puts down the milk and waits for her reaction instead of getting the pot to warm it up. 

For a moment, Claire looks at the photo blankly. Then her eyes widen. She stares at it like she’s seeing a ghost. 

“I’m guessing you recognize him then.”

“Is that… how? What?”

“He’s been coming in on the weekends for the past two months. He said his name’s Castiel. Never told me his last name or what made him come into our humble establishment until tonight. You still want that cocoa?”

“Yes, please,” she whispers and drops down heavily on one of their kitchen chairs. She’s still staring at the picture. “Shit. It’s really him, isn’t it?”

“You’re kinda the one who has to tell me that. But he says he’s your dad and that he’s here to get back in contact with you. I told him I’d ask whether you’re interested in talking to him.” He gets the pot and puts it on the stove, giving Claire some time to process. 

“What did he say? Where has he been?”

Dean mixes the cocoa powder with some sugar and cinnamon into the milk. “Illinois? That’s all I know.”

“I’m from Illinois.” 

“Yeah. But apparently the community you grew up in told him to get his agnostic ass out of there and not come back. He thought it was best for you if he complied.”

“He thought abandoning me was best?” Claire spits. 

“Pretty sure he didn’t see it that way. But I think you gotta talk to him if you want to know the actual reasons.”

Claire doesn’t answer immediately, so Dean just keeps making the cocoa. He puts it in their respective mugs - Claire’s has a grumpy cat on it, Dean’s is a Yoda-mug he'd gotten from Charlie - and sets the drinks down on the kitchen table before quickly rinsing the pot. Then he comes to sit with Claire. 

She pushes his phone back to him. He doesn’t light it up again, just puts it to the side. 

"I wanna make it clear that you're under no obligation whatsoever to talk to him. You live here. We've got things with CPS figured out. Even if he tries - and honestly I don't think he will - we can fight him if he tries any bullshit."

"How is he? As a person, I mean?" Claire asks. 

"Nice? Far as I can tell anyway. He's got a dry humor that you got to get used to before you even notice when he's making a joke. He loves burgers. And I think he's a little lost. Like, he's lost everything that made sense to him a while back and I'm not sure he found something to replace that yet."

"And you have a crush on him."

So Claire hasn't forgotten that she's overheard that. Ah well, luck's never been on Dean's side. "Kinda only noticed it today, weird as that sounds. But Claire," Dean grabs her hand to emphasize that he means that, "a crush means nothing. You're my priority here."

"Why?"

"Because he might be your dad but I'm your guardian. Protecting you will always be my priority."

"Oh spare me. I'm not Sam. I can protect myself."

Dean shrugs. They've had this argument before. It ends in a stalemate every time. "Won't stop me from helping."

Claire notices it, too, that they've ended up on a well-trodden path cause she shakes her head with what passes for a fond grin for her. "Wasn't what I wanted to know anyway. Why him?" She clarifies. "I've seen you flirt plenty in the past three years and you've picked up enough people for a night or two. But I've never seen you fall for anyone. So why him? What makes him different?"

 _Falling for_ still seems a little more than the crush he's admitted to but either way, he's not sure he has a good answer. "Why Kaia?" he asks back. 

"Because she's funny. And brave. And she never pities me. And her lips are very kissable. And I want to get to know her better cause she's interesting. And I want to touch her and make her feel good. And it makes me happy when I can make her laugh. When I can make her happy."

"Wow." Dean is a little bit stunned. "That's a lot of reasons."

"There's more," Claire grins. "But I believe it's your turn."

"Uhh, his lips are very kissable as well?" Dean tries. 

Claire makes a face. "Bleh. But also, if all you wanted was to fuck him, you'd have done it already."

"Probably," Dean admits. "If he was amenable."

Claire snorts. "If you set your mind to it you can get the straightest guy to give you a blowjob." 

"Okay, we're not talking about that," Dean draws a line. "As for how straight he is, well, that's a discussion you gotta have with him."

"He's queer?" Claire asks surprised. 

"Uhhh, maybe ask him about it instead of telling him I said that? He's a fledgling only."

"My dad is a baby queer?" Claire laughs somewhat hysterically. "And here I thought the night couldn't get any weirder."

"Eh. Never underestimate a night's potential. Also drink your cocoa, it's getting cold."

"Yes, dad," she snarks like she always snarks. "Wait. Can I even say that anymore? God, this is too complicated for 3am." She lets her head fall onto the table. 

Dean pats her back. "I guess that's our sign to go to bed and sleep it over. I told him I'd text him whether he can come by for Christmas but I can always do that in the morning."

"Wait. You invited him for tomorrow?"

"I said I'd ask. That's all."

"Doesn't he have anyone else to celebrate with?"

"Not here anyway. He's from Illinois, remember?"

"So he's gonna be alone if we don't invite him?"

"Kinda."

"Ugh. Way to go with the guilt trip, dad."

"You can say no," Dean reminds her. "It was his decision to come here after all. He's aware of the consequences."

"Nah," Claire sighs heavily. "Tell him he can come by." There's more apprehension in her voice than she wants to let on, though. 

"You sure?"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever."

“Okay. Can he come to breakfast?”

“‘S long as he knows that I don’t got any presents for him.”

“I’m pretty sure he doesn’t expect one.”

“Good,” she huffs. 

It still sounds like bravado, so Dean squeezes her shoulder before they separate to go to their own rooms. 

Before Dean goes to sleep, he sends a short text message to Cas. 

_Dean @Castiel: You can join us for breakfast at 10. Presents are optional, novelty clothing is mandatory._

He grins at the thought of Cas in a reindeer sweater before his thoughts get confused again by the fact that Cas is also Claire's dad. 

Dean spends the next hour searching the web to figure out whether they'd actually have a fighting chance at keeping Claire here against her father's will. But the law is confusing and Dean's eyelids are heavy, so he gives up and decides to just ask Sam, should the need arise.


	2. Christmas Morning

The next morning, Claire is up before him. She's started the coffee maker when Dean's finally out of the shower and dressed for the occasion in his ugly sweater with the seven dwarves in Christmas hats on it. 

There are a few haphazardly packed presents on the table but Claire herself is nowhere to be seen. Dean puts his presents next to Claire's. His wrapping skills are definitely no better.

"Dean?"

"Sammy! Did I not lock up last night?"

"Nah, Claire let me in. She's on the phone with some girl?"

"Ah, that would be Kaia. Guess she didn't want to be overheard. Omelettes, pancakes or French toast?" Dean asks while nodding approvingly at Sam's sweater. It's got Rudolph on it, his nose actually lightening up when you press it. It was a present from Eileen last year and cemented the appreciation Dean had for his future sister-in-law. 

"An omelette for me, please."

"You got it." Dean takes out the pan and starts taking stuff out of the fridge. 

Sam drops his bag with no doubt perfectly wrapped gifts on the table, comes over, washes his hands like a good boy, then washes the vegetables and gets to chopping. 

They work in silence for a moment, every move long practiced, even if it has been a while since they last lived together or since Sam helped at the bar regularly. 

“How’s Eileen? She still coming tonight?” Dean finally breaks the silence. 

“Yup,” Sam nods. 

“You could have brought her this morning, too, y’know?” 

“Ah, but the morning has always been just for us,” Sam smiles. “It’s about the past more than the future and that’s okay. We survived a lot. Taking a morning to remember it and to see how far we have come is healthy, I think.”

“Uhh,” Dean flounders at the unexpected sentimentality. “Is now the right moment to tell you that Claire’s father will be joining us today?”

Sam startles. “Claire’s - what?”

Dean chuckles. “Yeah, about the same reaction I had when he told me who he was.”

“You need me to lawyer him?” Sam asks, voice growly. 

“Stand down, counselor,” Dean calms him. “No need to take action yet. So far, all he wants is to talk to Claire.”

“How’s she coping with that?” Sam scrunches up his face in sympathy. 

Dean shrugs. “As well as expected? I guess we’ll know more when he’s actually here.”

“Do you know what happened? I mean, he was out of the picture for half a decade.”

“I know what he told me. Don't know whether it's the whole story. But it made some sense to me.” When Sam still looks grim, Dean says, “Look, I don't really like it, either. But I am pretty sure that this isn’t a situation like our dad suddenly showing up to collect us after he left us in some foster home for a few months.”

Sam grimaces at that. And yeah, while Dean's still got mixed feelings about this, he's pretty sure that Sam is 98% relieved that their dad will never show up again anywhere ever. But then, Sam had been smart about their dad from the beginning, while Dean had clung onto wishful thinking for way too long. 

“How are you so calm about this?” Sam asks. “I mean, you go play _minigolf_ with her! If that doesn’t spell _dad_ I don’t know.”

“Heh,” Dean grins. “You should come next time. We make a competition out of trash talking each other, you’d be such a loser at that.”

Sam rolls his eyes but he has a hard time hiding his smirk, “You lose against her, huh?”

“Holy fuck, yes. Every time. She’s a menace.”

Sam laughs and hands the vegetables to Dean to fold into the omelette. Still, he's not that easily distracted. "The question stands, though. How are you so calm about this?"

Dean folds the omelette and presses down on it with the spatula. Then he turns back to Sam. "Because I learned my lesson," he says pointedly. "You can't hold anyone against their will."

Immediately, Sam's expression turns guilty. "Dean, I…"

But Dean holds up a hand to stop him. "You came back. Took me a while to figure out that I had to let you go, took you a while to figure out that I had actually done that. But you came back in the end.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Dean shakes his head. “I needed the lesson. And it helps me right now. I can’t do jackshit about this, other than supporting her any way I can. And I’m pretty sure trying to keep her away from her father is not support.”

“Dean?” 

Dean swivels around when Claire’s voice comes from the door. 

She looks a little sheepish. “He’s here.” She points to Cas, who stands in the door behind her. 

“Hello, Dean,” Cas greets him quietly. 

“Uhh, hey,” Dean greets back and then turns back to the stove to save Sam’s omelette. “Shit.”

“Dean, language! Hey, I’m Sam.” Sam stretches out a hand for Cas to shake. 

“Castiel Novak,” Cas says gravely. 

Claire in the meantime makes her way back to Dean. To a spot behind him on the far side of her dad actually. 

“Pancakes, French toast or omelette?” he asks her if for no other reason than to keep this as normal as possible.

“Pancakes,” she decides. 

“A decision after my own heart. You?” he turns to Cas. 

Cas looks a little like a deer in the headlights again. “Whatever is easiest?” he hedges. 

“Nah, Cas, not how it works,” Dean shakes his head. “It’s Christmas, everyone gets their favorite. So. Pancakes, French toast or omelette?”

“He’s got bacon and eggs, too,” Sam helpfully supplies. “Though it's too many fats and not enough nutrients for me. And those two are always into the sweet breakfast foods if you give them a choice.”

“I like bacon plenty,” Dean grumbles. “Bacon burgers are a thing.”

“For breakfast?” Sam raises his eyebrows. 

“Omelette,” Cas interrupts. “If you’re sure it’s not too much effort. And coffee, if you have it?”

That makes both Dean and Claire snort. 

“Yeah, we’ve got coffee,” Claire confirms and actually goes to get a mug to fill it for Cas. 

Cas watches her before clearing his throat. “That is a very nice cat sweater,” he starts hesitantly. 

Claire looks down at the grumpy cat in a Christmas hat that's grumping across her chest. “It’s Christmas. It’s ugly sweater day,” she says as if that is the most self-evident thing in the world. 

“Dean told me about it,” Cas nods. “But I didn’t have novelty clothing and not enough time to go shopping for it this morning. I brought these, though.” 

For the first time, Dean notices that there is a bag standing at Cas’ feet.

“It’s not much. I wasn’t sure -,” Cas breaks off. “And I have nothing for you, Sam. I’m sorry.”

“You brought presents?” Dean whistles through his teeth. “I appreciate it, man. Though I don’t think we have anything for you beyond some breakfast. Sorry, man. This was a little short notice.”

“Uhh, well, I was going to give you the presents at the bar, if I, umm.”

“If you had chickened out,” Claire says in too sweet a tone and holds out the mug to Castiel. 

“Thank you.” Castiel takes the mug carefully. Claire has given him the one with rainbow lightsabers on it that usually is Charlie's go-to when they're playing D&D. “And yes, if I had - chickened out,” he confirms. 

“Hmpf,” Claire huffs. 

“Sam,” Dean nudges his brother who’d been watching the interaction with a grim face. He holds a knife in front of his nose. “Vegetables.”

Sam nods curtly, but he takes the knife and starts cutting up more of everything they need to fill the omelette. 

“And you,” Dean turns to Claire, “pancake batter. Make it a generous portion. They’re gonna steal.”

“‘S cause they know our choice was better,” Claire answers laconically. 

“Yup,” Dean agrees. 

Sam protests it half-heartedly but it’s not with his usual health-nut vigor.

“Sam? Can you take over here?” Dean asks him when he's done with the vegetables. He hands him the spatula. “You,” he points at Cas. “With me.”

Cas tilts his head at him but he complies.

“Welcome to my humble abode.” Dean gives a little half-bow when they enter his bedroom. “Please ignore the chaos. Alright, let’s see what we have.” He opens his closet and kneels down to find the box that he’s just stashed back after finding his own Christmas sweater in it this morning. He looks through the options and then throws a red sweater with an enormous gaudy Christmas tree on it at Cas. “Try it on. Cause that suit won’t fly at Christmas, dude.”

Cas stares at the sweater like it is personally offending him, but then he sighs and puts it on the bed to shrug out of his suit jacket and loosen his tie. 

Dean stays where he is, though he lets himself plop on his backside to watch the proceedings. He is aware that Cas is nowhere near actually undressing, but he’s only ever shown up in a full suit, only occasionally even getting rid of the suit jacket and never so much as rolling up his sleeves. So this might actually turn into a bit of a show.

"The button-down, too, Cas," Dean reprimands when it looks like Cas wants to pull the sweater over it. "I can see that you're wearing a t-shirt underneath."

Cas grumbles a little, so Dean tuts. 

“Uh-uh, Cas. You want to fit in, you gotta fit in. No business attire at the Christmas party.” Not that a monkey suit has ever been regular business attire for Dean. Though he does own one for bank appointments and the like. 

He sends a few grateful thoughts in the direction of Missouri, their case worker from CPS, for not being stuck up on appearances. And for giving him a chance. See also: young girl living with a dude who owns a bar. 

“I fear it won’t matter,” Cas sighs. 

“Huh?” Dean has totally lost track of their conversation. 

“I will not fit in whether I wear this or not. Claire hardly even wants to talk to me.”

“Give her a bit, Cas. She’s suspicious of strangers. And whether you like it or not, right now, you’re a stranger to her. Give her some time to warm up to you.”

“But I-,” Cas looks down at the tree over his chest. He looks deflated. “I didn’t expect it to be easy but I thought I’d recognize her. But she’s a - _teenager_.”

A smile plays around Dean’s lips at the desperate way that word gets said. “That, she is. She was how old when you last saw her? 9? 10? Of course she’s not that kid anymore. She’s mostly grown now. And she’s had to fight for herself a lot.”

Cas bites his lip but he nods. 

“Come on, man. You can do this.” Dean pushes the box back in place and jumps up. “Also, your omelette is growing cold.”

Breakfast is awkward. Usually, they just eat as much as they can as fast as they can, fight about the maple syrup and end up being so sticky that they basically glue themselves to the table and all have to go wash up before they can even think about piling into the car to drive to Bobby’s. Now, everyone is on their best behaviour. And the Winchesters don’t do best behaviour very well. 

"So what do you do in Illinois, Castiel?" Sam asks. 

"I live there," comes the dry reply. Dean has to bite back a grin. 

"What do you do for a living?" Sam specifies his question. 

"I work in - contracts."

"HR?" Sam asks. 

"Something like that," Cas answers noncommittally.

"Sounds vague and vaguely ominous. Care to be a little more precise?"

"Sam!" Dean interrupts. "What's with the fifth degree?"

Sam shrugs and mumbles, "Lawyer," at the same time that Cas says, "It's okay, Dean." Then he turns back to Sam. "I would tell you about it, but I have intentionally not checked up on any of you. So you'd have to prove the necessary security clearance to me."

Dean whistles through his teeth. "Thought you were not military anymore?"

"I'm not - exactly military anymore. But it is much easier to find a job in the vicinity of what you know how to do."

"Yeah, okay, I'll grant you that. So, do you like the new job?" Dean tries to give the topic a shift into an easier direction. 

It makes Cas come up short, though. "That's not a category I've ever applied to it."

"Huh. Don't you want to do something you like doing? I mean, a job doesn't have to give you fulfillment or whatever, but you spend a lot of time with it."

"Until recently, I had a lot of time to fill," Cas grimaces. 

"What happened recently?" Sam asks. 

"I learned about Claire and started driving down here on the weekends." Cas says it almost shyly and he sends Dean a smile with it and crap, Dean can feel his face heating up in return.

"Oh no, it's actually true," Claire whines. 

"What?" Sam looks at Claire confused while Dean groans. 

"Dean's got a crush on my dad," Claire informs Sam and with him Cas, who looks up sharply. 

He doesn't look weirded out, though, just surprised and maybe a little - intrigued? In any case, he keeps staring instead of shooting Dean down. 

So instead of denying it, Dean shrugs and gives Cas his best coy smile. "Told you I was flirting."

“Shoot me now,” Claire lets herself fall back dramatically in her chair and almost keels over, chair and all.

Dean gets a hand out to stabilize her at the last moment. “Won’t have to if you kill yourself.”

“Haha,” she pouts. 

“Both the omelette and the pancakes are very good, Dean,” Cas remarks, maybe trying to bring them back onto safe territory. 

“Yeah,” Dean grins, never one to be shy when the compliments are about food he makes. “I come with perks.” He wiggles his eyebrows. 

This time, Claire shoves him. “Stop it, you asshole.”

Dean smirks, “But it’s so easy to get a rise out of you.”

“That’s my _dad_ , Dean!”

“Yup, kinda knew that.” 

“Don’t play with my dad’s heart. Uncool.” 

Suddenly, Dean thinks he hears an undertone of actual worry. And yeah, playing with Cas’ heart would mean playing with Claire’s heart, too. She’s lost her family once already. 

“I’m not trying to,” he says even though, yes, the flirting is lighthearted banter more than anything. Dean would have a lot of things to explain to Cas before it could get more than that. And he's not sure he's ready for that. But one thing he knows is, “I like your dad. I think he’s worth giving a chance.” 

“He’s left me before,” Claire accuses.

“Because I thought I was doing the right thing,” Cas, who had been listening to their volleys silently so far, pipes up. “Because I thought your life would be better without me.”

“How can my life be better without a dad?”

“You had your mom. And your church. A whole community. That I didn’t fit into anymore.”

“You could have tried!” 

“I did,” Cas says earnestly. “For years. Your mother and I married each other with the expectation of spending our whole lives together. We loved each other. And you.”

“Then why wasn’t that enough?”

“I gather out of the same reason that you don’t live with your grandma anymore. We have to be who we are.”

“So you left,” Claire accuses.

Cas doesn’t dodge the punch, either. “Yes. Your mother made it clear to me that there was no space for me in your life the way I was. I accepted that.”

“You didn’t even - I dunno, look back once? Miss me a little?”

“Of course I missed you. Every day. I missed your mother, too. But I knew I had left you behind well-loved and well-cared for. So whenever the sadness got too strong, I imagined you were laughing right this second. Playing with your best friend at church. Helping your mother bake cookies. Walking the Johnson’s dog.”

“He died. Scooter. The year after you left,” Claire spits.

“I didn’t know that. I’m sorry.”

Claire shrugs. “He was just an old dog.” She gives it a harsh spin that doesn’t even begin to cover the heartbreak. 

“You loved him. And I wasn’t there for you. Just like I wasn’t there for you when your mother died. I should have been. I’m sorry.”

Suddenly, there are tears in Claire’s eyes. She wipes at them angrily. Of course her answer is an aggressive “Yeah, whatever”, but Dean knows her too well to buy it. He puts his hand over hers. She lets him hold it for a moment, lets him comfort her before she pulls away with a huff. It’s more than Dean expected. If there’s one thing Claire despises it’s when someone notices when she’s vulnerable. 

Still, Dean nods his thanks at Castiel. The apology will not stay the only one, not if Cas wants Claire to forgive him, but it's a start. 

“I don’t know what your mother and your grandmother told you about what happened. I can try to explain my side of things if you want that. But I’ll also understand if you don’t.” Cas clears his throat. “And if that’s the case, I just - I just want to say thank you for today. For inviting me. I’m glad that I got to see - this. You. All of you.” He includes Dean and Sam in his smile before looking back at Claire. “I’m glad that you’ve got Dean on your side. I’ve got no doubt that it was the best that could happen to you, after your own family let you down.” He awkwardly collects his hands in his lap, his final pancake not quite finished but his hunger obviously gone. 

“Hey,” Dean says, “the morning’s not quite over yet, even if breakfast is finished. There’s presents to open still.”

“You said you’re doing that at your family’s, not here,” Cas reminds him gently. “There’s no need to change your traditions for me. Not any more than you already have.”

“You can come.” They all stop mid-motion to stare at Claire. The tip of her nose turns pink but she sets her jaw stubbornly. “You’re already wearing the stupid sweater. That is if Bobby and Ellen are okay with it.” She looks back at Dean. “I mean, I’m already bringing Kaia.” 

“Call them,” Dean encourages her. “It is Christmas. I think they’ll be lenient. And they usually make enough food to feed an army anyway. Though I think you should ask Cas whether he even wants to come.”

Claire looks from Dean back to Cas, hesitant. “You don’t gotta,” she says. “If you have other plans. But Bobby and Ellen are pretty cool. But you gotta be okay with Kaia,” she says with vehemence. 

“I would love to meet her,” Cas replies. “I’ll be on my best behaviour.”

Dean snorts. “You better. They all think it’s Bobby who’s gonna get out the shut-gun, but really it’s Ellen who you gotta be careful about.”

“Don’t forget about Jo and Eileen,” Sam throws in. “If they gang up on him, he stands no chance.”

“Like he’d stand a chance against either of them on their own,” Claire shakes her head. “Dude.”

“Well, he said he was in the military,” Dean points out. 

“Yeah, but Jo fights dirty.”

“True,” Dean agrees. He’s lost enough fights against his little sister from another mother to know that it’s true. 

“So am I getting this right that we’re six people this year?” Sam, being his sensible self, brings them back on point before they can spiral any further. 

Dean sends another look at Cas to confirm that Cas is indeed coming, and when he nods, says, “Yup. Two cars it is. I propose that you get the overnight bags and the presents and fetch your girlfriend, we pack the food and drinks and go retrieve Kaia.”

“So Cas is with you?” Sam asks. 

“Unless you wanted to drive by yourself?” Dean asks Cas. 

“I brought no overnight bag,” Cas says self-consciously. 

“So we go by your motel, then go get Kaia. No need for you to pay for a motel room you’re not staying in. As long as it’s good for you if we’re back here tomorrow late afternoon?”

“That should suffice,” Cas says gravely. 

“Alright then, dishes.” Sam claps his hands and jumps up from the table. “Let’s roll.”

Dean shakes his head, even though he gets up to help. Sometimes his brother reminds him of an overactive Golden Retriever.

Sam keeps up the energy and it’s infectious enough that they manage to get the place cleaned up and all of their stuff piled into the cars at a reasonable time. 

Claire calls Bobby, who tells her to give the phone to Dean after she’s made her request but who unsurprisingly agrees that Cas can come after Dean confirms that Cas isn’t evil and out to hurt Claire. 

They split up, Sam taking his hipster car to fetch Eileen from her morning shift at the senior residence, Dean showing Cas to the Impala. He opens the passenger door for him. 

“Monsieur, if you’d please.” He does a silly little half bow that’s not made any better by the bright neon scarf that Charlie knit him, he’s sure. 

“I can take the backseat if Claire wants to…”

But Claire is already climbing in the backseat. Rolling her eyes, of course. 

“Yeah, somehow I feel like Claire rather wants the spot next to her girlfriend than the one next to either of her old men,” Dean winks at Cas. 

“Dean, gross!” Claire grumbles.

“Oh, silence from the peanut gallery.”

“She actually loved doing that as a child,” Cas says, half-smile like he’s remembering something fond on his lips. 

“Huh?” Dean asks. 

“Throw peanuts at people. She liked it much better than eating them.”

“Peanuts, huh?” Dean grins and goes over to the driver’s side. “Tell me more.” When Cas looks at him with little understanding, Dean shrugs. “Sam has told her all of my embarrassing childhood stories, but I’ve never had anyone to tell me all of hers.”

“What? No! Unfair!” Claire complains from the back. 

“Call your girlfriend, let her know that we’re on our way, and let your dad and me talk.” 

“You suck.” But she takes out her phone, opting to text Kaia instead of calling. 

Dean turns back to Cas. “So, which motel are you in?” he goes for the practical.

Turns out, Cas’ motel is basically on the way to Kaia’s place anyway, so they make a quick detour there first. It doesn’t take long, everything Cas has with him for the weekend neatly stored in one small suitcase. 

The road out to the reservation is not the best kept, gravel replacing concrete after a while. Dean drives carefully, patting Baby’s steering wheel every so often to apologize for making her deal with unpleasant road conditions. He definitely knows why most of Kaia’s family drives four-wheelers. Dean stops at the bottom of Kaia’s driveway, knowing from experience that Baby doesn’t like the deep dirt track up to the house. 

Claire doesn’t have to be asked, she’s up and out of the car before Dean can even open his mouth. “We’ll be right there.”

Dean nods and turns the car before putting it in park. “If there’s any bullshit you gotta get out, do it now.”

Cas looks at him with raised eyebrows. 

“The whole _diversity_ thing? We talked about it,” Dean reminds him. “As you can see, this ain’t the fanciest part of town, and Kaia’s folks are a ways away from your white upper middle-class community. And while I’m honestly pretty fucking sure that they don’t give a rat’s ass whether you approve of them, I’m also pretty damn certain that Claire does. So if you’ve got anything disparaging to get out of your system, do it right now and I will listen, but hold your peace when they’re back.”

“You protect her fiercely,” Cas observes. 

“Damn right,” Dean nods. 

“I’m glad about that. And no, I have nothing ‘disparaging’ to say.” He actually does the stupid air quotes again, like he thinks that’s really a thing people do.

“You’re a weird one, Cas,” Dean shakes his head, though his smile is back. He’s pretty sure by now that he’s not only making it up in his mind that Cas is one of the good guys. It gives him an odd feeling in his stomach. 

“Why?” Cas asks. 

“Cause you -,” Dean thinks about it for a moment. “I’ve tried fitting the pieces, but somehow they don’t. The oversized suits suggest that you’re a boring office dude. But then you have this permanent bedhead that I’m not sure you can even tame down, and most offices don’t approve of that. Also, I saw you in a t-shirt today and you’re hiding muscle under all of those layers.” Dean grins appreciatively, though he tries not to make it a leer. This really isn’t about Cas’ physical appearance anyway. “You seem like a very together guy, holding yourself with confidence and a straight back. But then some moments, you’re terribly awkward - I don’t mean that badly but you’re kind of a dork. But then you have this brilliant wit and can banter with the best of them. The pieces of the puzzle don’t fit, man.”

“People can be more than one thing, Dean,” Cas says with a slight rebuke, though his smile is wide, an open-mouthed grin like he’s delighted about how many details Dean’s picked up and thought about. “I can be a boring office guy, an ex-soldier, a white upper-middleclass man, a bisexual male and an estranged father all at the same time. I can have been brought up to be narrow-minded and still strive to be a better person.”

“You’re not boring,” Dean zooms in on the one thing that immediately stands out. “I said your paper-pusher suit can make it seem that way. I personally didn’t believe it for a second.”

This time, Cas’ smile is accompanied by a shy blush and looking down at his hands as if the open compliment embarasses him. “That’s because you’re kind.”

Dean frowns because this is new. “You weren’t this shy before. I’m pretty sure I’ve complimented you often.”

Cas’ blush deepens. His eyes flit up to Dean’s and away again. “ That was before - You didn’t correct Claire. When she said you had a crush on me.”

“Aha! So you’re actually noticing my compliments for the first time, is that it?” 

“No, I… I just always thought you were a nice person, who likes making people feel better. Now I’m thinking it might be a little more personal than that.”

“So you dismissed anything I was saying on account of me being _nice_?” Dean tsks. “Dude, I’m offended.” He lays a dramatic hand over his heart, trying his level best to keep the topic light and not think about the way his heart is beating hard. 

“I’m sorry, Dean.” Cas looks down at his hands again.

And shit, crushing Cas was not what he wanted. So he bumps Cas’ shoulder with his own. “Banter, Cas. It's called banter. And for the record, when I say something nice about someone, I always mean it. I mean, you’ve seen us at breakfast. We’re much more likely to throw insults at each other. Though we also mean those fondly. Usually, anyway.”

That makes Cas smile again, if only a little. “You have a very unique way of showing affection to each other.”

“Not that unique. Wait until this afternoon.” Dean turns towards the back where the girls are just climbing in. “Heya Kaia, how are you? Ready for a Winchester family trip?”

“Hello, Dean,” Kaia smiles at him shyly, still an audible pause before the _Dean_ like she’d rather call him Mr. Winchester. But _Mr. Winchester_ was always Dean’s dad and he’d rather not. “Thank you for inviting me.”

Dean winks at her and then grins at Claire. “See, Claire, manners. It’s not that hard.”

She predictably rolls her eyes at him. “Just drive, Dean.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” But he can’t keep his grin back and he doesn’t try. 

He keeps his eyes on the road, staying out of the introductions between Kaia and Cas to concentrate on driving. But he listens in enough to keep track so that he can interfere if necessary. It isn’t, though. The introductions start out awkward - no surprise there - but Cas asks Kaia about how she and Claire met and after a hesitant beginning, the girls step by step turn up the volume as they launch into the story, Claire apparently just as happy to tell it as Kaia is. All Cas really has to do is to listen and not dampen their enthusiasm. 

Dean smiles to himself. The eagerness and freedom of young love is warming his heart. He keeps sneaking glances at Cas throughout it, watching his reactions. It’s beautiful. Cas is attentive and his awkwardness fades the longer the conversation lasts, his wit and humor surfacing in careful jokes that the girls react to with laughter. 

It makes Dean’s insides tingle in a way that he’s tried not to acknowledge whenever it happened over the two months of their acquaintance. Because Castiel was a patron. A hella attractive one who immediately struck all of Dean’s visual preferences. And one who was lonely, probably, seeing how he spent his weekend nights at the bar. Which, there was a time in his life when he would have seen that and used it. Claire isn’t wrong on that count, a lot of straight guys can be persuaded into experimenting, as long as everyone keeps their mouths shut after. And one time deals were just about as much as Dean could stand having going for the longest time. Scratch the itch but keep the danger to calculated levels. And have his anger at the ready in case he miscalculated. 

But Dean’s doing good these days. His anger at the world and at guys and at that one asshole in particular is still there, but he’s got so much good in his life that it’s pretty much balanced out. He doesn’t need to punish himself and he doesn’t need to plunge someone else into a sexual crisis. So when Cas was either impervious or oblivious to Dean’s flirting, was gorgeous but most likely straight, Dean had kept flirting, but in a loose friendly manner and without any actual intention of making Cas end up in his bed. 

Only, over the weeks, the initial spark of attraction has morphed into something that is no less attraction but somehow goes deeper. That wasn’t ever part of the plan, is never part of the plan anymore, and the fact that Cas is also Claire’s dad still messes with Dean’s head. 

He notices at the last minute that he was deep enough in thought that he almost missed the exit ramp that will bring them to Bobby's. He brakes and swerves rather harshly, sparking protests from everyone in the car. 

“Dean, the food!!” Claire exclaims, making him laugh. 

“I swear, sometimes I think she’s mine,” Dean chuckles.

Cas’ face does something complicated at that statement, but Dean’s got no time to figure it out because he has to navigate his way into the steady stream of cars off the highway. “Why is everyone out today? Don’t they have family to be with?” he grumbles. 

“Like you do?” Cas replies.

“Don’t sass me while I’m driving.”. 

“Okay,” Cas nods peacefully. 

“Don’t give in so quickly, either,” Claire pipes up from the backseat. “Dean loves a challenge.”

Dean makes a few random sounds of protest but he can feel himself blushing when Cas side-eyes him curiously. He’s got no idea whether Claire actually meant that as kinky as his brain decided to take it - he’s not going to discuss _that_ with the girls in the car - but oh, if Cas gets any ideas in that direction, what with his dark growly voice and his intense stare, Dean is in so much trouble. Trouble he’s not sure he can handle. He hasn’t even attempted _that_ kind of activity since - He shifts uncomfortably in his seat and turns up the radio instead of trying to come up with a no doubt unconvincing reply. Even the rock station plays Christmas music, but Dean’s gonna take it. 

Another half an hour later and they’re finally at Bobby’s place. Unsurprisingly, Sam’s car is already parked in the lot, next to Bobby’s old junkpile. Dean carefully maneuvers Baby next to it. He pets her steering wheel. “Remember this place? This is where we made you all nice and shiny again. You like it here.”

“I swear he’s not insane. Just got a bit of a fetish going,” Claire informs Cas with a sweet smile before nudging Kaia and fleeing the car. 

“Hey! Take some stuff inside!” Dean shouts after them before turning back to Cas. “So, this is Singer Auto Salvage. Looks like a junkyard, pretty much is one. ‘S also the only place that Sam and I ever sort of called home. After the age of four, anyway.”

Cas looks around the lot curiously. It’s ten levels shabbier than even Dean’s apartment over the bar, and the house is not much better. 

“It’s never gonna clean up into something presentable but the people are real.” It’s not quite apologetic, Dean’s not ashamed as such, but he knows that most people see them as white trash. Well, any of them but Sam, with his college education and fancy law degree.

“I _was_ in the military, Dean. I’ve seen things other than affluent suburban neighborhoods.”

So, Cas has picked up on the apologetic note. Ah well. “Seen them, sure. But have you ever been a part of them?”

Cas shrugs. “I have a lot of experience with not fitting in, no matter how hard I try, in many different places. I have little doubt that I can manage it here just as well as everywhere else.” He gives Dean a smile that is supposed to cover the pain but that does an awfully bad job at it.

So Dean covers Cas’ hand with his own and squeezes it. “Then don’t try.”

Cas looks at him without understanding. 

“It’s hard work, trying to fit in. And today is Christmas. No hard work on Christmas. So. You’re wearing the sweater, that’s assimilation enough. Just be yourself for the rest of the day, okay? See what happens. Maybe it’ll be a positive surprise.”

Cas gives him another smile that spells out loud and clear that he doesn’t believe a word, but he also says, “I’ll try”, and that’s good enough for now.

The welcome, when they finally make their way inside with the rest of the food is as rowdy as always. Dean barely has time to put down the food on the table before Jo jumps him. Like literally jumps on him. They almost topple over into the food, a fate averted at the last moment by Sam pushing them out of the way, meaning of course that now they fall over in the other direction. Dean gets a hand under Jo’s head at least, but they land in a loud crash accompanied by a few shouts from the bystanders. 

“You okay?” Dean asks Jo, his heart beating too loud in his chest. 

“Yeppers,” Jo nods and shoves at him. “You used to catch me no problem, old man.”

“Oh don’t you start, too! It’s enough that Claire calls me that. Also, you used to be a skinny teenager!” Dean grumbles. 

All Jo does is laugh. She is faster on her feet than him. He takes her stretched out hand and lets her help him up. They hug in a more normal and less destructive way before Ellen cuffs him around the ears. 

“Hey! That was definitely her fault, not mine!” Dean complains, but he embraces Ellen in a hug as well. 

“Glad you boys made it home for Christmas.” Ellen squeezes him tight. 

“When have we ever not?” 

That makes Ellen hug him even tighter, and yeah, okay, there was the year of the trial. Dean had been too fucked up that year to make the trip. And Sam had been too worried to leave him alone over Christmas, so in the end, neither of them had made it. 

“It’s been a long time since then.”

Ellen pushes him an arm length away from her so that she’s able to look at him. “So you’re good?”

He doesn’t avoid her probing stare. “I’m good, Ellen. I swear.”

She looks at him for another long moment, making sure that he’s no lying to her, then she nods abruptly and lets go of him. “Good. Go make yourself useful.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Take your brother and get the Christmas tree in.”

Dean looks over at Cas. “Is it safe to leave him alone with all of you?”

Ellen smiles sweetly at him. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“You tell me,” Dean replies with a shake of his head. “Come on, Sam, let’s do this.” But when he passes Ellen he mumbles, “Go easy on him. He’s trying.”

He doesn’t think it’ll help, not much anyway, but it can’t hurt, either. And the fact that Ellen is wearing a Christmas sweater showing elves baking cookies means she was in a good mood at least this morning. She has a sweater where Rudolph breathes fire for the other kind of days.

The Christmas tree is a good seven feet tall and heavy. Both him and Sam are sweating when they have finally managed to carry it into the living room and wrangle it into an upright position in its stand. 

“Okay, it’s all y’alls turn now. I need a beer,” Dean decides and makes a beeline to the kitchen. 

Sam stays behind to help decorating the tree, but Bobby follows him, so Dean cracks open another bottle and hands it over. Together, they watch the scramble for the best decorations and the immediate chair grabbing to get to the top of the tree. Cas valiantly tries to stabilize whoever is climbing up to make sure no more accidents happen. Dean absentmindedly rubs his elbow where it had gotten crushed in the fall earlier. Jo, man, always in fifth gear already when everyone else is still in second. Already, she’s dragging a second chair up, meaning Cas has to split his attention and stabilize two people now. 

“There something I should know about, boy?” 

Dean flinches when he notices that he’s been staring at Cas for an indefinite amount of time and apparently has been caught. By Bobby of all people. “Uhh,” he takes another long gulp of his beer. “No?” he hedges. 

Bobby frowns at him, disapproval radiating from every pore. It should be ridiculous, seeing how he’s wearing a sweater that has a Christmas tree on it and says _Get Lit_ , but somehow Bobby’s disapproval always demands attention.

“It’s not like that,” Dean deflects. “And even if it was, Cas is - harmless.”

Bobby raises both eyebrows at him.

“You know what I mean.” Dean averts his eyes. He hates it, that every conversation of this type comes back to the same topic. He hates it that everyone worries about him. 

“Hmpf. Just be careful,” Bobby grumps.

“Always am.” That gets him another huff, so he adds. “These days, anyway.”

“You better be. You’re gonna give Ellen a heart-attack if something happens to you,” Bobby grumbles. Dean’s kind of grateful that he leaves out the _again_. 

“Just her, huh?” Dean bumps Bobby in the shoulder, trying to get them back to lighter banter. Bobby’s got no obligation to care as much as he does and it still leaves a queasy feeling in Dean’s stomach sometimes that Dean isn’t sure is because he’s bad at accepting anyone caring about him at all, or because he keeps imagining how his life might have turned out, if they had found their way to Bobby and Ellen earlier. Differently, he bets.

“Does he know?” Bobby asks and nods in Cas’ direction. 

“Which part?” Dean asks. “He knows that I’m flirting with him. Kinda kept it light enough not to immediately push all of my issues on him, though. And he didn’t catch the news coverage of the trial or at least doesn’t remember it. I asked.”

Bobby makes a face, neither of them comfortable talking about feelings. But he still follows up with, “You gonna tell him?”

Dean shrugs. “He’s gonna google eventually. I’ll deal with it then.” 

Bobby’s eyes narrow. “That mean you’re not gonna tell him and instead gonna wait until he finds out on his own?” It’s clear what he thinks of that. 

Dean takes another gulp of his beer just to stall for a moment. “I don’t know. ‘S Claire who should be taking center stage, isn’t it? I don’t wanna derail that.”

“If he finds out from The National Enquirer, that’s gonna derail shit that much harder,” Bobby points out, not unreasonably.

Still, it raises Dean’s hackles. “I’m not unfit to raise a child just because of what happened to me,” he growls. “Even CPS agrees.”

Immediately, Bobby takes a step back and puts his hands up. "You don't gotta convince me. I can see it." He turns back towards the others and nods in Claire's direction. "She looks happy."

Claire is standing next to Cas now, reaching up to hand Kaia one straw star at a time that Kaia diligently puts wherever the majority vote decides that it should go. She's beaming up at her, Kaia smiling back shyly, and Dean is pretty sure that if they weren't surrounded by family, they'd be sneaking kisses. 

“She is,” he agrees, though it makes that uncomfortable tug make a reappearance in his stomach. He’s never believed that you have to be paired off to be happy. In fact, for the longest time, he was pretty fucking happy _not_ to be paired off, seeing how being with him beyond a night or two always seemed to make the worst come out in people. But looking at Claire and Kaia, Sam and Eileen, even Bobby and Ellen, all happily paired off and better for it, makes him long for it nonetheless. 

Just at that moment, Cas looks up from where he’s still taking helping very seriously. They lock eyes over the expanse of the room. Cas gives him a shy smile and Dean answers it with a small smile of his own. Then Claire asks Cas about hanging a straw star and the moment breaks. 

Dean abruptly turns away. “You got some corn to pop? We need popcorn chains for the tree.” 

“You know that it’s not necessary, right?” Ellen joins him at the stove where the first batch of popcorn is cooling and the next one is in the pan. “We have actual decorations and everything.”

“And I have microwaveable popcorn but I still like making it the old-fashioned way.”

“Suit yourself,” Ellen shrugs but she also magicks some yarn and a needle out of one of the drawers and starts stringing popcorn pieces. 

“So how’ve you two been?” Dean asks.

“Same old, I guess, though I’m not complaining. Bobby’s good, I’m good, Jo’s doing well at college, it’s all as it should be. The less exciting life is, the better, if you ask me.”

“Can’t say I disagree on any particular point.”

“You got some excitement going, though. What with _Castiel_ showing up and everything.” She pronounces the name carefully.

Dean shrugs, playing it off casually. “Wasn’t all that exciting until yesterday when he told me about being Claire’s father.”

“Huh.”

He looks at her questioningly.

“I kinda thought you had known longer. Y’all are taking this very much in stride.”

“Well,” Dean thinks about it, but really apart from the initial moment of surprise, there’s not been any reason not to take this in stride. Cas just kinda showed up in the morning and got integrated into their merry little band. “Cas is a little weird but actually not all that hard to get along with once you get used to him.”

Ellen snickers. “Guess he thinks the same about you.”

“Wa-what now?” 

“I’ve seen the glances he keeps sneaking you.”

Dean groans. “Tell Bobby to stow it.”

“Bobby?” Ellen raises her eyebrows. 

“Is he not the one who put you up to this? I swear ever since he knows I’m not straight he’s paranoid about every guy around me.”

“Bobby ain’t got nothing to do with this, love. I’ve got my own pair of eyes, thank you very much.” Ellen shakes her head at him and goes back to stitching. 

“But…” Only he has no actual sentence planned to follow that up with. So instead he turns to watch the others again. They’ve moved on to the other side of the tree, though Sam and Eileen seem to rather be cuddling than helping now. “You really saw him looking?” he asks Ellen. 

“Yep,” she confirms. 

“And it wasn’t just,” he gestures vaguely, “him being uncomfortable over there or something?”

“Pretty damn sure it wasn’t. But you could always ask him yourself.”

Dean snorts. “Yeah, good luck with that.”

Ellen frowns at him. “It’s not forbidden, you know. To pursue something that makes you happy. I mean, look at Sam.”

“Yeah, boy did well,” Dean agrees. “Eileen’s a keeper.”

“So why can’t you find that?”

Dean closes his eyes for a second before turning to Ellen and telling her bluntly, “Cause Sam only has to tell her about his brother’s sordid past. For me, it’s, well, _my_ sordid past.”

“Emphasis on _past_.”

Dean appreciates the thought but, “You know that it’s not that easy.” 

Ellen’s eyes soften. “I know. But Dean, if you don’t put yourself out there, that’ll always be it. That man is always gonna be the last relationship you’ve ever had.”

Dean bites his lip, not sure how to answer that. He hates the thought as much as anyone. “It’s just -” 

He has no idea where that sentence is going, either, and is glad when the corn begins to pop, giving him something else to concentrate on. He is meticulous about his timing and gets the pan off the fire in time for the last kernels to pop, but before the first ones get burned. He puts them in a second bowl, allowing them to cool while Ellen is still working on the first batch. 

“What do you think, two more batches?”

She smiles, though he can see that she’s not happy about the change of topic. “One to string and one to eat?” 

“Yup.”

“Sounds about right.”

He fills the next batch into the pan and puts it back on the stove.

“You’re not wrong,” he finally says. “I don’t want _that_ to have been my last relationship. It’s just kinda hard to come back from it. And Cas -” he stops because it’s the first time he’s admitted it out loud to Ellen that she’s not wrong there, either. “Well, he’s a baby-queer. I’m not sure he could cope.”

“Well, if it helps any, I can tell you that in none of the pictures I’ve seen from the ‘good days’ with Michael, he ever looked at you like that. Or you at him, for that matter.”

Dean nods. He knows that. In a way, he’s always known it. If only that knowledge had changed anything. 

“I’ll think about it, okay?”

It’s enough to get Ellen off his back, at least for the moment. She peacefully strings popcorn, while he makes the missing batches. He adds generous amounts of butter and salt to the one for consumption and then throws it to the lions, aka feeds it to their family. They have all worked up an appetite, apparently, even though breakfast was big. 

When the popcorn strings are finished, it is him and Sam putting them on the tree, the only decoration they still always put up together. The others know it, too, Claire holding Kaia back when she wants to help. 

Bobby announces midway through that the usual Christmas emergency call from a car that needs a tow truck has come in. He waves Dean off when he asks whether he needs help, and yeah, Jo’s already getting her old overall. She’s always had a good hand for cars. Dean’s pretty sure that she’s gonna come right back here when her engineering degree is done, and that she’ll turn the whole place inside out and make it into something that’s actually profitable.

When the tree is finished, Ellen sets off towards the kitchen to prepare the final touches of today’s dinner. Eileen and Sam stubbornly don’t let her shoo them away, even though she insists that not much work is left to be done. Claire decides that she’ll show Kaia their room, which Dean comments on with a “be safe” that has both of them blush and roll their eyes at him and gets him a side-eye from Cas. 

Well, now’s as good a time as ever if Dean really wants to do this. Which he’s still only half-certain about. 

“Care for a little fresh air? I can show you around the property if you want.” Maybe luck is with the brave. Just cause it’s Christmas or something. 

Cas tilts his head at him, and yeah, there really isn’t much to be seen on the property, all Dean wants is to get out of earshot of the others. 

Still, Cas nods. “That would be nice.”

So Dean hollers at Ellen that they’ll be back in twenty and they grab their jackets and go out. 

Dean breathes in deeply when the cold air hits his lungs. He loves his family and he’s used to the noise and commotion of the bar, but at the bar, he isn’t quite as much under constant scrutiny as he is here. He knows that all they want is to see him happy, but it’s a lot sometimes.

“You have a beautiful family,” Cas starts them up on a conversation once they’re walking. “Thank you for inviting me.” There is something like a genuine awe in his voice.

“Eh,” Dean deflects away from the compliment. “We’re a mess and we know it.”

“No,” Cas shakes his head. “Your family may be more chaotic than others, but to me it seems that you actually really like each other. And that you even have enough space to take in strangers. Like me, today. You make it seem so easy.”

“It’s not,” Dean shakes his head. “Or it wasn’t. Believe me, I’ve almost lost Sam more times than I can count.”

“I can’t imagine that.” Cas has fallen in step beside him, their shoulders close enough that they’re brushing with each step. 

“Believe it or not, it’s true.” 

For a moment, Dean falters. He could leave it at that. If he never takes the first step to explaining this, he’ll never have to tell the rest of the story. He grimaces. That’s wishful thinking and he knows it. Cas is in his life now, for better or worse, because for some odd reason they have ended up at a place where they share the responsibility for a child. 

“Look, man, there’s a lot you don’t know yet. Starting with: our mom died when I was 4. Sam doesn’t even remember her. He basically remembers me raising him. And surprise, surprise, I was a kid still and not very good at it. So you can believe me if I tell you that he was _very_ angry at me _very_ many times.”

Cas blinks but otherwise he takes the information in stride. “Your father?” he asks. 

“Alive but unavailable. At that point, anyway. He died a few years ago.” Before the trial, thank God. Dean doesn’t even want to know what names his father would have called him after that. 

“Look, Cas, I gotta-,” Dean stops, bracing himself against a junker for a moment because his breathing is too shallow and it makes him kinda dizzy. “I gotta tell you that thing that I accused you of blackmailing me about.”

“Okay?” Cas asks cautiously. He half-sits on the hood of the car, turned towards Dean but not crowding him like he would if he’d come to stand beside him. 

Dean is glad for it. He’s had enough people telling him that he disgusts them, he doesn’t need Cas directly in his space when he tells this story. 

“‘S been the better part of a decade now since any of this shit happened, so like, ‘s not new or anything.” He turns to lean his back against the junker after all, pushing his hands into his pockets and looking into the distance. “That guy Michael that I mentioned? That guy kinda hurt me bad.”

Cas looks at him but he doesn’t comment, just waits for Dean to continue. 

“The police called it aggravated assault. When it went to trial they called it spousal abuse. In the verdict, they called it a lover’s spat and found him not guilty of any of the charges,” Dean summarizes bitterly.

“What happened?” Cas asks quietly. 

The cold metal of the car feels solid under his fingers, an anchor in this reality against the other that wants to swamp his mind. “They got a hold of the fact that we were members of a kink club. Jurors decided that I had obviously wanted or at least deserved what I got.”

“Not at the court,” Cas shakes his head. “With Michael.”

Dean turns his head all the way away, looks over the house and the sparse trees. The cold air bites his lungs, his breathing still too shallow, too rapid. He tries to calm it down. He’s talked about this. Often enough that the words are there. They just never want to come out. “He kinda thought he owned the world. And me. Didn’t take No for an answer. On anything.” He turns back to Cas after all, even though it feels like his blood is freezing. But he needs to word this as bluntly as he can and see the reaction to this. Needs to see the look in Cas’ eyes. Needs to see whether there’s disgust. Or even worse, arousal. “When I said No, he didn’t accept it. So he raped me. He hit me and he raped me. And one time he did it bad enough that I ended up in the hospital. And that was the end of it. Sam didn’t let me go back after.”

Cas blinks, processing without moving much at all. But he doesn’t flinch away and there’s no sudden spark in his eyes that flashes with lust. That’s a start. 

So Dean goes on. “There’s a lot of people who believe the same bullcrap as the jurors. Who think that Michael might have taken it too far but that deep down I must have wanted it. Cause when you’re into sex and into subbing, and you find yourself an older guy who also helps pay the bills, it’s obvious that he’s bought the rights to your body, right? You’re nothing more than a possession then.” He shudders. 

“At the bar, when you assumed I was gonna…”

“It’s not personal,” Dean interrupts before Cas can even finish the question. “There’s been a lot of _nice guys_ over the years who felt like they could buy me. Or like they didn’t even have to pay because they knew some something that someone told them and that they were sure I wanted to keep quiet.” 

He shakes his head to expel the venom and the shame that want to take root in his heart. Instead, he takes a deep breath. 

“To be honest, I really would like that. I would love to never talk about any of this bullshit ever again. To bury it deep down and have it forgotten. But if I do that, then those assholes have a hold over me. And it’s enough that -,” he breaks off. But then, he’s come this far. “It’s enough that the thing itself still has a hold over me. I haven’t had a serious relationship since. One-night stands here and there. With girls, mostly, cause - well, cause they’re smaller than me. And cause they don’t usually get off on telling me what a slut I am and how I should get punished for it.” He grimaces. That was more info than he had wanted to let slip. “Anyway, that whole thing isn’t the only shitty thing that happened to me, but it’s kinda prominent, so - I thought you should know.”

Cas nods quietly. “Thank you for telling me.”

“You’d have found out anyway. And if you have to know, it’s better I tell you. Oh, and before you ask, yeah, Claire knows. She googled the bar and stumbled upon the articles before she ever came in.”

Cas already had his mouth open but now he snaps it shut again. His face turns a shade whiter, even though the cold had colored his cheeks pink before. “Claire googled…,” he stutters. “She was so young. I wanted to protect her so badly.” 

Dean bites his lip. But he’d known this was coming. “Yeah, and I’m guessing hearing about all of this doesn’t make you any fonder of the thought that she’s been in my care for the past few years. I won’t hold it against you. I’m the first to agree that kids should have a chance to be kids before being confronted with the ugliness of the world. But Claire is smart and she’s resourceful, and she may be caustic and have built some walls to protect herself, but she’s also got a big heart and she knows right from wrong. And I kinda think that under the circumstances that’s the best way she could have turned out. I’m proud of her, and a little proud also of how we’ve managed the past few years. So, you know, I refuse to feel guilty. On that account, anyway.” God knows there’s enough he feels guilty about otherwise.

“Dean, no,” Cas shakes his head fervently. “That’s not what I meant! If anyone has to feel guilty, it’s me, not you. You saved her. I abandoned her.”

Dean snorts. “Dude, she’s saving herself. All I did was provide favorable circumstances.”

Cas levels him with a stare, and okay, fair. Dean just got through telling him how you can end up when there are no favorable circumstances after all. 

“So,” Dean swallows hard. “I have a question. And it’s not about Claire.”

Cas immediately looks apprehensive. 

Dean’s pretty sure that that’s a bad sign. But then, if it is, that makes things easier, too, right? They can stop this in its tracks before anyone gets hurt. Never mind that Dean’s not fallen for anyone in - well, so many years that he was pretty sure it wouldn’t happen anymore. He’d been okay with that. In fact, he’s still not sure that he really has the guts to try the whole relationship thing again. Especially with a guy that he’s pretty much already sharing a kid with. They have a responsibility here, after all. 

“Dean?” Cas asks, voice nervous, when the silence goes on too long. 

“Sorry,” Dean clears his throat. “I’m kinda - this is awful timing of course. Putting all that bullshit on you and then -” He breaks off, rubs his hands over his face in frustration and starts anew. “Cas, I - I like you. A lot. And I wasn’t gonna say anything, because you were straight and because I’m - I got so much baggage, Cas, and I have no idea whether I’m even capable of trusting again and that’s a lot to put on you and…” He tapers off under Cas’ earnest stare. “You get what I’m saying?”

Cas nods. “I think I do. But I - My last relationship was with Claire’s mother. I haven’t been with anyone since. Or with any guy at all. And I don't have the same traumatic experiences you do, but I’ve been deployed. It’s been a while but I still wake up drenched in sweat some nights, and I will probably never go watch the fireworks on the Fourth of July anymore in my life. I’ve got baggage, too, that’s a lot to put on someone. To put on - you.” He gulps visibly. 

“On me?” Dean gives him a little half-smile, more vulnerable than he wants to be. 

“Yes,” Cas nods, eyes glued to Dean like the fate of the world depends on Dean’s reaction. 

Which… “Hug?” Dean asks, still a little insecure that he’s getting all of this right but opening his arms up in invitation anyway. 

It makes a shy smile appear on Cas’ face. He opens his arms, too, coming a step closer. Dean meets him halfway. 

For the first moment, it’s awkward, their jackets thick and Cas stiff against him. But then Cas buries his face against Dean’s neck, and Dean’s chin comes to lie on Cas’ shoulder, and Cas squeezes him tightly and Dean holds on fast, and suddenly they fit. Their bodies mold themselves to each other, and there’s shared warmth, and it feels like cookies and safety and Christmas. And because Dean only needs to turn his head a tiny little bit to press a kiss into Cas’ hair, he does so before he can overthink it. 

Cas notices it, too, because his head comes up from where it had been buried and then he’s looking at Dean and Dean is looking at Cas and then Cas is biting his lip and he’s looking at Dean’s lips and then back up at Dean’s eyes, question plain. So Dean wraps a hand around Cas’ neck, slowly, carefully, giving him all the time in the world to move away. Only Cas stays, and when Dean leads him closer, he follows willingly, and then Dean’s eyes fall closed and there are lips on his. They are warm and a little chapped and they taste salty still from that popcorn they’ve eaten, and the kiss is a chaste little thing, but it’s the first kiss that resonates in Dean’s heart and produces butterflies in longer than he cares to remember. 

So when it breaks, he puts his forehead against Cas’, not ready to let go completely. “Okay?” he asks quietly. 

“Very,” Cas answers with emphasis. 

Dean smiles against Cas’ skin then, pulling him into another kiss, just because he wants to and because he can. 

When they break apart this time, he finds a bit of distance, though. Not much, just enough that he can look at Cas when he asks, “So, does that mean - do you, uhh, think we could see whether our baggage might fit together? If we go slow?” 

“Yes,” Cas nods. “Yes, I think that’s a very good plan.”


	3. One Year Later

"Claire! Get your ass down here! Food's on the table!" Dean hollers. 

"You're not my dad!" Claire hollers back but there is still the clip clop of her feet on the stairs a moment later. 

Dean chuckles and waves his fingers at her to show off the new shiny silver band sitting on his ring finger. It’s not quite an engagement ring. Just a little something to make it clear to the outside world in general and their more flirty patrons at the bar in specific that they're happily taken. "Be careful or I'll formally adopt you."

"Eh," Claire shrugs laconically, "I'm old enough that you need my permission for that."

"Guess I gotta work to get that permission then." He flashes her a smile when the sentence freezes her in her tracks and puts an arm around her shoulder. "Christmas dinner first though."

He only notices that Cas was close enough to overhear when Claire has already ducked out of his embrace, running over to Ellen to - Christmas miracle! - help. But Cas is standing where he apparently had been standing during the whole exchange, a soft smile on his face. Dean can feel his face heat as he blushes and he ducks his head. Doesn’t keep him from moving right into his boyfriend’s space, though. 

“You meant that?” Cas asks him, quietly so that the others won’t overhear. 

“You know I do,” Dean answers and takes Cas’ hand, tapping the ring there once before letting their palms rest together. 

“It’s only been a year,” Cas reminds him. “And it’s not always been easy.”

Dean’s not gonna deny that but, “A year ago you were alone and unhappy in a military contractor job in Illinois, and I thought I was never gonna let anyone close enough again to be in a relationship. Now you co-own a bar where, admittedly, you make significantly less money than in your old job, but where you actually enjoy what you’re doing. And as a bonus, you get to live with some super great company.” 

Dean gestures at himself with a flourish while Cas snorts. 

“Sounds like a pretty good development to me. For both of us.” Dean lets that stand for a moment before he adds, “Thank you for being patient with me.”

Cas brings a hand up to Dean’s face, brushing his thumb along Dean’s cheek. “I need your patience just as much as you need mine.”

It’s true, sometimes. Cas is a research-monster but there’s still a difference whether you learned something from a book or have practical experience, whether the skill is mixing drinks or sex between two guys. You gotta find your flow and practice. Dean helps where he can and it isn’t actually hard for him to be patient, because Cas is a quick study, and even in the few cases where he isn’t, he applies himself with gusto. 

But for Dean, it’s different. He’s not learning new skills, he’s relearning things he’s lost. Like trusting. Like letting go. Like temporarily giving up control, be it at the bar or in the bedroom. So he needs patience when his brain shuts down on him because trust scares him. Or when he gets angry because that’s easier than being scared. And then he needs patience again, when he doesn’t have the words to explain what’s wrong. Cas gets quiet then, and calm and gives him space. Lets time work for both of them, until Dean gets distracted enough to get out of his head or until he’s managed to find the words he needs. 

“I love you.” 

Those words didn’t come easy, either. Not the first time. For either of them. But now he smiles at Cas and Cas smiles back at him, and Dean knows it by mischievous sparkle in Cas’ eyes what Cas is going to say next. He should never have introduced him to Star Wars. 

“I know.”

“You’re an asshat,” Dean shakes his head with a fond smile and leans in to steal a kiss. It’s warm and fond and so wonderfully familiar now. “Come on, Han Solo, we have Christmas dinner waiting for us.”

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Holidays, my darlings! May you have a great holiday time and may the new year bring only good things for you!


End file.
